


Bestial Melodies, Violent Chords

by glowingbutterfly



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, BDSM, Except Translated to Modern Day, F/F, F/M, Fuckbuddies, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Visual Kei, Zenos yae Galvus Has Feelings, Zenos yae Galvus's Battle Boner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowingbutterfly/pseuds/glowingbutterfly
Summary: Another life, yet once again drawn together...The barrier of stage and floor, visual kei vocalist and fan, is torn down upon hearing her voice in an amateur video on the guitarist's phone. Raw. Passionate. "Ryoushi" will chase her down, kindle it, force her to become his equal. But in approaching Myra, did he bite off much more than he could chew?Set in the bowels of modern day Tokyo, the livehouses will become aflame with a different sort of strength, a symphony of discord and anger. With beautiful visuals combined with brutal grows and violent choruses, what heights will they reach?
Relationships: Yotsuyu goe Brutus/Warrior of Light, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There will likely be terms I use that you may not be familiar with (a lot of specific lingo used within the visual kei scene), so I'll try to define things here and there in the end notes. Please feel free to comment if you have any questions! There are a lot of things based on my own experiences and memories (livehouse layouts, certain venues and train lines, etc.), so I apologize if this borders into the self-indulgent.
> 
> One more note: Both English and Japanese are spoken in this fic. The languages are denoted by different types of quotation marks.
> 
> “Hello” = English  
> 「Hello」= Japanese

It was during their live at Denatsu when she was first captivated by his voice.

His harsh, guttural growls were interlaced with primal screams, juxtaposed by deep, melodious vocals. The frantic pounding of drums and the distorted chords of electric guitars backed him, the rhythm of the bass underlying it all. It was a harmony of dissonance, a symphony of chaos, and Myra was  _ entranced _ , as if a siren had called her out to sea.

He certainly had all the beauty of a siren to accompany it. It wasn’t surprising, really — visual kei musicians were generally beautiful as a rule, whether naturally so or greatly enhanced by intricate makeup and costuming. While his band wasn’t heavily invested in the movement, there were still vestiges of it in their hairstyles and heavy eyeliner, their outfits rather elaborate in comparison to an everyday metal band.

The vocalist of Mena;gerie clearly leaned into that ostentatious nature, his outfit blood red in an ocean of black, the jacket long and partially zipped with dark accenting. His pendant of three interlocking diamond shapes hung over his pale, broad chest, a sheen of sweat reflecting light off of his collarbones. Long, blond locks swayed with his exaggerated movements — he resembled a lion on the prowl, a massive beast whose presence overwhelmed the tiny stage of the livehouse. The boots didn’t help any, with the man being well over six feet flat-footed.

Her gaze had been locked upon his face whenever she wasn’t caught in the synchronized headbanging of the audience. A prominent nose, lips that would curl into a feline smirk, a strong jawline, the ever-present jewel on the center of his forehead… He forwent colored contacts in favor of his naturally azure eyes, a veritable rarity in the movement.

In fact, Ryoushi was, by very definition, a rarity. It was almost unheard of for a European to be heading such a band. And yet, here he was, deep within a basement in the relatively sleepy Tokyo neighborhood of Higashi-Koenji, just a few stations west of Shinjuku.

Myra originally had attended the live for another small-time band that she had followed for perhaps a year, maybe a little longer. There were three different acts playing on this particular Friday night, and she had half considered leaving early after her band performed their set. She had a final to study for, a night shift to work at the Lawson down the street from her tiny Ikebukuro apartment… It wouldn’t do to be irresponsible _once_ _again._

They already saw her as the delinquent foreigner at her university and her part-time job. She had to wear a wig in order to even clock in, her short, cropped hair having been dyed a dark shade of purple — a travesty to the delicate sensibilities of the everyday customer. If she hadn’t been so adamant about keeping her piercings, she would have long ago forgone lip spacers out of convenience.

Keeping up her preferred look was a bitch when she had to hide herself most of the time, to be sure. But it was in those moments when she was in her full regalia, traversing down the alleyways decked in punk and gothic fashion, that she truly felt herself.

And it was within the livehouses that she felt the most  _ alive _ . Nothing could top the sheer ecstasy of being within the thrall of the bands playing, her body moving in sync with those around her, each note booming in her ears. There was nothing better than that.  _ Nothing _ .

She stepped out the door and into the bar area, heading immediately to the merch table. Flipping through her wallet as she waited in line, she visibly cringed, spotting what looked like only ¥10,000 in bills. Perhaps she would need to hold off on her excessive cheki purchases for the night — she still had a few polaroids mixed in with her cash. She made a mental note to organize them into her folder tonight, though whether she would remember or not was up for debate.

With a sigh, she picked out four at random from the box, stepping aside to look over them. She smiled widely. No need for trading tonight, her favorite guitarist’s photo among them, and signed to boot. Storing them in her wallet for now, she finally headed to the bar, exchanging her drink ticket for some ginger ale. It was a habit of hers to avoid alcohol at lives, considering how easily she got dehydrated. Seeing how busy she was with work and school, the risk wasn’t worth it. Her boss wouldn’t appreciate her passing out on the floor behind the counter, that was for sure. She’d certainly come close to that a couple times already...

Leaning against the wall by the door, she sipped on her drink, still mulling over whether to stay or go. There was only one more act, and the photos she had seen online piqued her interest. A foreign vocalist? She had scrolled through his profile out of curiosity, wondering how the hell she hadn’t heard rumors about the band already. The height listed had to be an exaggeration, right? She softly giggled at the thought of him bumping his head into train doors and door frames, wondering how he managed in this country of all places, let alone in the West.

She could hear guitar chords echo from the main area, the performance almost at hand. On an impulse, she went back inside. There was no harm in checking them out — if they weren’t to her taste, she could simply slip out the back and take the train home.

_ I’ll give them one song. If anything, he’ll be some great eye candy, even if his voice turns out to be shit. _

Standing along the far wall, Myra stretched, popping her neck in the process. She lightly tapped her heavy boot against the concrete floor, her impatience growing. How long did they plan on keeping them waiting?

Finally, the lights dimmed, and their intro music played as the curtains were drawn back. The first couple of rows cheered loudly as each musician appeared, some of the girls growling their favorite member’s names. The men were primarily clothed in black, their outfits ornate and hair perfectly straightened and teased. The bassist in particular gave off a feminine vibe, his shorts revealing slim, pale thighs, with long, silver locks framing his face.

Their voices grew to deafening proportions as the vocalist made his entrance, the blond sauntering toward the microphone. Brushing aside a stray strand of hair, his eyes slowly scanned over the crowd, giving them a predatory smirk.

The first few frantic notes began, and with them, Myra’s new obsession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheki: They're small polaroids of the members that you can generally buy for 500 yen a pop (sometimes more, depending on the band). You usually pick them out at random, and sometimes they're signed or have other perks attached. A lot of people will raise the ones they want to trade in the air and then discuss what members they would want instead.
> 
> Also, Denatsu is a real livehouse! It's very small (maybe 100 people capacity), so it’s very intimate. Feel free to look it up!


	2. Recognition

_ Why do they always insist on being so goddamn loud? _

The blond casually lounged on the black, faux leather couch, the furniture already beginning to discolor and peel with age. While he was tempted to rest his head upon his fist, he held himself back — his makeup had already been carefully applied and it wouldn’t do to smear it before the live. Eyes half-lidded, he tapped his fingers on the armrest to the beat of their opening number for the night: a fast-paced, brutal song that was certain to energize the crowd. 

Ryoushi couldn’t care less about the fans individually, but as a unit, their passion spurred him on. It was such a beautiful madness that he conducted, puppetted, his fellow members aiding him in manipulating the strings. Even if the other men and their incessant chatter annoyed the shit out of him.

「She sent you a  _ karaoke _ video? And it’s not her singing? I expected something more…」

「Explicit?」Takumi grinned, his red eyes glinting in the light. The guitarist seemed to have another woman every week — the blond had casually wondered if the love hotel he frequented knew him by name.

「Your words, not mine. Have you watched it?」the bassist replied, raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity. His silver locks almost rivaled the vocalist’s, though Nagisa had always relied on the aid of extensions. He had a slight feminine charm to him and knew it, playing it up with visible thighs and the occasional hint of defined abs. There was a reason he was so popular among the fans, after all.

「Not yet. Are you that desperate to see?」The guitarist chuckled, brushing a strand of black hair behind his excessively pierced ears. 「I’m pretty sure she’s not one of yours.」

「Hey now, I’m allowed to be curious.」 Nagisa gave him a mock pout, shoving at his arm ever so slightly.

「What are you two going on about now?」Aki sighed, turning around in his chair to watch the pair. Outside of Ryoushi, the red-haired drummer was the most stoic of the group, and preferred the company of portable games over people.

「Takumi’s new girl sent him a weird video. Looks like one of her friends singing?」The bassist motioned for the man to join them, scooting to the side to give him room.

Shaking his head in defeat, the drummer dragged his chair over to them, perching just high enough to see over their shoulders. 「This better be worth my time. If it isn’t, you’re paying for my drinks tonight, Takumi.」

The guitarist laughed, a hint of nervousness in his voice. Aki was far from a lightweight, and he was in no mood to drop yen on a nomihoudai for two people. Especially after looking at his account balance earlier that day.

「What are you waiting for?」Nagisa reached over, tapping the play button on the screen.

The video itself was rather blurry. A mixture of bright colors danced across a dimly lit room, various drinks and plates of snacks littering the central table. Several women were gathered on the surrounding couches, lightly chattering away before the first chords of the song reverberated throughout the space.

The camera slowly zoomed in, focusing on a purple-haired foreigner, microphone in hand. She was huddled in on herself, visibly trembling as she waited for the lyrics to pop up on the screen.

With a deep breath, she began.

Her voice was deep, melodic, each and every note passionate. She bared her heart in those moments, the pain of the lyrics so palpable, so heartrending, on her tongue. And then she transitioned into growls and screams.

The blond straightened, azure eyes blinking open. Rising from his seat, he headed over to the huddle, dwarfing the other men in his shadow.

「Even the great Ryoushi is interested! Are you sure you’re not an imposter?」The bassist smiled at the man above him, but did not receive one in return.

「Show me.」 It was practically a command. The others were completely taken aback — such a reaction from him was so unusual, almost unheard of, for something of such insignificance as an amateur smartphone video.

Takumi hesitantly handed him the phone, utterly perplexed.

Rewinding about 30 seconds, the vocalist listened to the song from the beginning, studying the lithe woman on the screen. There was something so familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite place—

Ah,  _ yes _ . He  _ had  _ seen her before. Quite a number of times, in fact. Other foreigners stood out easily among the crowd, of course, but she had been at almost every live for the last few months, front and center. 

She was a fan of him, specifically. How  _ interesting _ .

Ryoushi had returned to his seat and was through his fifth playthrough when the bassist sat on the arm of the couch, giving him an inquisitive look. 「I haven’t seen you this interested in something since we took that sword making class in Kyoto.」

「Maybe he’s finally found someone he wants to fuck. About time…」the guitarist chuckled, garnering a horrified look from Nagisa. Even Aki had raised an eyebrow, scooting his chair back to watch whatever events were about to unfold.

The blond ignored them all, playing the video once again. As the final seconds faded into silence, he leaned back into the couch and stared at the last shot on the screen. “Strong, passionate, raw… Untrained, yes, but what  _ promise _ .”

The others looked at him blankly, an awkward stillness suffocating the green room.

「Next Saturday’s live, we will run a promotional special. For every ¥5000 spent, they can get a two-shot with a member of their choice. Advertise this on your social media pages, and I’ll discuss it with the manager later tonight.」Ryoushi handed back the phone, barely paying attention to the various reactions from the rest of the band.

Yes, that would catch her attention. It would provide the proper amount of discretion, keeping everyone else in the livehouse too occupied to notice. Almost too easy, even, but certainly effective for his needs.

He would hear her voice in person, everyone else be damned.

* * *

Myra had never enjoyed changing in station bathrooms. Tight stalls, the unpleasant smell, the awkwardness that came from keeping more people waiting in line… Sure, she  _ could _ have returned home after work, but the kilometer there and back would have cut way too much into her departure time. She was already running late as it was. Go figure. Sometimes she wondered if her boss kept her late purposefully. Not like she had much choice in the matter. It was one of the few places where she could find work, and the yen was not going to make itself.

With a sigh, she opened the stall door, heading to the mirror. A quick brush over of her hair and a replacement of her spacers with metal studs later, she gave her reflection a small smile. Not perfect — self-confidence had never been her strong suit, after all — but passable enough for photos tonight.

Had Mena;gerie ever even offered two-shots? She had a couple photos with the entire band on her phone from the occasional instore event, but little more than that. When she had read the news on Twitter, she had squealed in joy, garnering quite a few odd stares from the university cafeteria. Finally,  _ finally _ , she could get a picture just with him, even if the thought sent a pang of nervousness through her gut. 

She would be standing so close to him. Almost  _ too _ close. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

A few stations down the Yamanote Line she went, stepping out of the train door along with rivers of other people upon arrival in Shibuya. Her headphones blocked out the noise of the crowd and the ever-present voices on the loudspeakers throughout the station — she found them a virtual necessity in this sprawling city of sensory madness.

With a deep breath, she climbed the stairs and eventually left through the ticket gates, dodging people here and there in her rush. People, people, people… So many of them, those anonymous faces that she would instantly forget, passed by her every day. It was a never-ending cycle that kept the cogs of the city turning, residents and tourists alike contributing to its vitality.

She may have felt little more than an ant in comparison to the massive metropolis, but she still had her niche, her small chunk of happiness, that she gleefully took from it. And it was embodied in those in line that smiled at her as she approached Shibuya Rex.

「I was just starting to get concerned!」The woman faked a laugh as Myra approached, the back of her hand concealing the dark red tint of her lips. Her yellow eyes surveyed her, eventually focusing on some stray purple strands poking out from the back of her hair. She closed in, her ornate nails carefully brushing them back in place.

“You are still free Monday night, yes?” she breathed into her ear, lightly dragging her fingers across the back of the other woman’s neck.

A hitch of breath. Tsuyu always had a way of making her face burn brightly in the most awkward of places. She knew the elegant woman took some sort of sadistic pleasure in making her squirm, in making her lower belly ache in anticipation.

“I’ll assume that’s a yes, my dear kitten.” She broke away, a sly smile on her face before continuing to converse with the others around them.

As people chatted around her, occasionally herded by staff away from the cramped road alongside the livehouse, Myra took a quick glance at her ticket. She had pulled a fantastic number — luck and perseverance, along with a sprinkling of obsession, had been on her side. It probably helped that she always stalked the ticket website right before sales opened up, too. Better to not leave anything to chance, especially not today.

Passing the others in line and exchanging the occasional polite greeting, she found her spot right around the entrance. She barely had a chance to stretch before the numbers began to be called out, the very beginning of the line shuffling down the stairs. Myra knew she’d cut it close, but she hadn’t realized just  _ how  _ close. Thank god the trains hadn’t been stopped or delayed. She shivered at the thought.

Ticket checked and drink fee paid, she finally passed through the doors and into the livehouse proper. She quickly shoved her bag to the side of the room, gathering whatever small items she needed before heading to her designated spot on the bar. Finally, she was here, and could spend some time recovering from the rush before the lights dimmed and the curtains opened.

“That fucking worm showed up again.” Yotsuyu had joined her on the bar, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “How many times does that make it, now? He needs to fuck off before I decide to slit his throat in his sleep.”

“ _ Tsuyu, _ ” Myra quietly chastised her, shaking her head. “So violent! He’s not worth your energy, you know that.”

“And? His level of obsession is  _ gross _ . I wouldn’t be surprised if he threw his dumb ass on the stage one day, or became some sort of disgusting stalker. All I hear is Ryoushi this, Ryoushi that, like he’s forgotten what a goddamn hobby is. If he doesn’t chill out soon, I will  _ make him. _ ” Her eyes flashed dangerously, glancing behind her at one of the very few men present on the floor.

She wasn’t wrong. Yotsuyu’s step brother always had something...off about him. Behind his faked pleasantries was something utterly terrifying, like one of those smiling pictures of serial killers she’d seen in the countless online documentaries she had binge watched in the middle of the night.

For lack of a better term, Asahi had been fucking creepy since day one, and wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.

Myra was about to rest her hand upon her friend’s shoulder just as the lights finally began to fade. She grasped the bar in front of her instead, squeezing it until her hands turned bright red. No matter how many times she’d seen them live, her excitement never faded — in fact, it only seemed to grow exponentially. 

Like clockwork, the curtains rose once more, and with them another night filled with raw, primal energy.

* * *

Five people left.

Myra hated lines with a passion. While this one was unavoidable, she swore the entire nation enjoyed the process of queuing up far more than what they were  _ actually _ waiting for. There was a reason she hadn’t gone to USJ or Disney Sea.

Four people left.

She brushed off the red and black corduroy of her dress and adjusted the bat collar, hoping to god that there wasn’t visible cat hair. While it wouldn’t show up on camera, she would be mortified if it somehow transferred onto Ryoushi’s coat.

Three people left.

Opening her compact mirror, she examined her makeup for the umpteenth time. She had done some touch-ups several minutes ago, but she still couldn’t help but worry that something had smeared in the meanwhile. She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, the stainless steel of her earrings feeling cool to the touch.

Two people left.

She slowly bounced on her heels, her fingers playing with the fabric of her clothing. What expression would she make? What poses should she do? There were two pictures to be taken, and whatever ideas Myra had thought up before getting in line had disappeared as if water down a drain.

One person left.

Her mind went completely blank. Throughout his exchange with the other woman, Ryoushi seemed distracted, his pleasantries almost robotic in nature. He spent the entire process glancing behind the photographer, staring at her whenever he was afforded a chance. She wasn’t imagining it, right? Why was he…

Her turn.

_ Breathe, Myra. Hold your head high. Smile. _

She slowly stepped forward, her heart pounding in her ears. There was something strangely predatory in the way his eyes followed her — she felt like she was under a microscope, a fascinating specimen for him to study. His arm slipped around her shoulders, causing her to stiffen briefly before relaxing into him.

_ Ignore his touch. Don’t think too much into it. Smile for the camera. Make a cute pose. Do...something! _

With a sudden flash of light, the first picture was over, the polaroid gradually being ejected from the camera. Teeth clenched and muscles tense as they waited for the second, she almost didn’t notice the sensation of a slip of paper being pushed into her palm. She instinctively grasped at it, her mind thinking very little of it — at least, until the realization hit her following the final photo.

They separated. Myra craned her neck upward, cocking her head to the side. She had just barely begun to open her mouth when the vocalist gave her the slightest hint of a glare.

_ Do  _ not  _ talk about it _ , Ryoushi’s eyes seemed to say. Within mere instants his expression softened, as if nothing had happened at all.

She blinked incredulously, but followed his silent command. 「Thank you for this opportunity, Ryoushi-san.」

She tried to think of something,  _ anything _ else to say, but her mouth had gone completely dry, her mind little more than a blank slate. In lieu of words, she gave a soft, awkward smile and a deep bow before taking the polaroids from the photographer and excusing herself. A cordial goodbye here, a wave there, and she had scrambled back up the stairs and began her long trek down the massive hill to Shibuya Station. How she managed to miss Yotsuyu on her way out, she wasn’t sure, but for once it was a blessing. She had the privacy she needed and the time to figure out  _ what the hell was going on _ .

Her fingers trembled as she opened the scrap of paper. The message was concise, in English, and almost ornately written.

_ Tomorrow at 9:00PM. _

_ Shinjuku-ku, Kabukicho, xxxxxxxx _

_ Come alone. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Glossary:
> 
> nomihoudai: Basically you pay a flat fee for an "all-you-can-drink" period. You get as much alcohol as you would like for the amount of time you've paid for. If you ever decide to do this, please be VERY VERY careful, as they won't cut you off lol.  
> two-shot: Essentially a picture with you and one band member. For example, a five-shot in this case would be you and the rest of Mena;gerie, since they're a four person band. It's not uncommon for members to get as close as Ryoushi does in the story for photos. (Queue doki doki.)  
> USJ: Universal Studios Japan, located in Osaka.
> 
> Also those sword-making classes are totally real - my friend did one in Kyoto when he went to Japan to visit me when I lived there, lol. As is Shibuya Rex. I should have realized way sooner that I could go through this one shopping center (Mark City) to avoid this massive hill to get there, but I am sometimes not the most observant person...
> 
> I'll be posting intermittently on this story (likely one post on Misadventures, then one here) to keep my mind nice and active. I wonder what Zenos, wait, Ryoushi's plans are? ;D


End file.
